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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613015">can we get it now, low down and gritty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBard/pseuds/DarkBard'>DarkBard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breeding, Breeding Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, Scenting, Trans Jaskier | Dandelion, Trans Male Character, highly gendered words for trans genitals</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:55:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBard/pseuds/DarkBard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Witchers are sterile. That doesn't mean their most primal human instincts are gone.</p><p>Or: Geralt/trans Jaskier breeding kink PWP</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>352</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>can we get it now, low down and gritty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a week after Posada that the bard’s scent changes.</p><p>It was curiosity about this strange bard that kept Geralt from driving the boy away in the first place. From the moment he heard him sing in that dim, noisy tavern, he’d noticed something <em>off</em> about him. He was human, to be sure, but there was some incongruence that alluded and fascinated Geralt, though he’d never admit it.</p><p>Geralt makes his way toward their camp, his senses all a little too heightened from the potion he’d taken. The information he gathered in the village caused him to greatly overestimate his foe, which turned out to be three nekkers in a cave, easily dispatched, so his alchemical preparations hadn’t been necessary as originally anticipated. Every sound, smell, sight is more, greater than it needs to be. It’s disorientating.</p><p>He reaches the edge of the clearing and smells it, the wafting delicious scent enveloping him in its intoxicating perfume. It’s Jaskier, he knows. But it’s different. Changed.</p><p>Scenting hormonal changes might seem a useless skill for a witcher: after all, there is no evolutionary impetus for reproductive purposes, as witchers are sterile. Yet it has its uses along the Path; a griffin in heat, for instance, must be approached differently than one that isn’t.</p><p>He barely notices it on humans, even though it’s there; he tends to tune it out. However, the combination of the intensified sensory reception and the unexpectedness of it, that incredible smell of Jaskier and fertility...</p><p>He <em>needs</em>.</p><p>The urge to procreate, to breed, to <em>take</em> has never been stronger. He wants to take Jaskier, wants to fuck him until he gets him with child, wants...</p><p>The bard is sitting on a log next to the fire, long legs outstretched as he writes in a notebook. He looks up and sees the witcher. “Geralt!” he cries with a smile that quickly fades when he looks more closely. “Geralt? Are you all right? Did something happen, today, on the...”</p><p>“I can smell your cunt.”</p><p>Jaskier blinks, his pretty face pale. “You can...huh.” He looks down, letting out a long, slow breath. “So you knew?”</p><p>Geralt shakes his head. “Didn’t put it together until now. You’re ovulating.” He hadn’t intentionally closed the distance between them, but somehow he’s standing between Jaskier’s spread legs, kneeling between them so he’s looking up at Jaskier slightly. “Wanna fuck you,” he breathes.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut.</p><p>Geralt brings a careful hand up the bard’s side. “Wanna fuck you,’ he repeats, chapped lips against soft neck. “Wanna fill you, keep you full of my cum, fuck you until something takes.” He grimaces slightly as the words leave him. He knows nothing could come of it, not <em>really</em>, but the idea of it, of keeping Jaskier nice and bred, watching his flat belly growth, his small chest leaking...</p><p>He tugs the shirt from where it’s tucked into Jaskier’s breeches, slipping a hand to touch hot, smooth skin beneath, toying with the waistband.</p><p>Jaskier moans softly at the touch. He drags Geralt’s hand into his trousers, bucking against him as his fingers find the large, swollen clit, circling it attentively. The bard’s blue eyes snap open, licking his bottom lip quickly as he stares at Geralt. “Going to breed me, witcher?”</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Geralt rips the trousers down past the boy’s thighs before he sees to his own, pulling his hard cock out and stroking it a few times as Jaskier scrambles to bare himself completely from the waist down, leaving him only in a thin white shirt. Geralt pulls him onto his lap with a grunt, letting him over Geralt’s cock, rub his soaking slit over him, the head rutting firmly against Jaskier’s clit. “Gods, Geralt,” he moans, lining himself up and sinking slowly down, consuming him in a mind-numbing bliss.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jaskier babbles, letting himself be impaled on Geralt’s hard prick, ”fuck, Geralt, wanted you as soon as I saw you, wanted you to fucking ruin me for anybody else.”</p><p>Geralt groans at that. He shoves Jaskier backwards until he’s propped against the log, Geralt finding more leverage sitting up on his knees. “Going to,” he bites out, fucking hard and slow into the whining bard. “Going to ruin you for other cock, you’ll only want me, want to be my little breeding bitch,” and Jaskier lets out a keening whimper at that, moving to touch himself before Geralt smacks his hand away. He grasps the clit—not a clit, really, too big, that gorgeous swollen red head a little cock between them—grasps his <em>cock</em> between thumb and forefinger and jerks him in time to his harsh, accelerating thrusts. “So fucking gorgeous,” he moans, rutting roughly against him. “Feel so good on my cock, bard, <em>fuck</em>, gonna keep you there forever.”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a little cry at the words. “<em>Yes</em>.” His legs tighten around Geralt’s middle, drawing him in. “<em>Keep</em> me, Geralt. Make me yours.”</p><p>God, Geralt’s never been this close this fast before in his life.</p><p>He pulls out roughly, ignoring the pleading little whine that it rips from Jaskier, and manhandles him easily on his back on the bedroll. <em>God</em>, he’s stunning like this: on his back, skin flushed, staring up at Geralt with blue flames of desire. Geralt shoves his legs further apart and dives between them, licking and sucking his little cock desperately as he fucks him hard with three fingers until Jaskier comes with a shout, his cunt bearing down hard on the witcher’s fingers.</p><p>He doesn’t give the bard time to recover from his climax, sliding back up his body and fucking into him with a long, hard stroke, fucking him and kissing him and feeling Jaskier moan at the taste of his own cunt on Geralt’s lips. “Fill me up,” he pants against his mouth, “please, please Geralt, give me your cum, breed me up good and proper, make me your little bitch.”</p><p>How could Geralt possibly deny such a sweet request? He lets go, lets himself flood the fertile boy’s cunt as he buries his head in Jaskier’s neck.</p><p>They lie in silence, still joined, one or the other gently rocking every once in a while as they come down from their respective orgasms, until Jaskier lets out a pitiful groan, clenching around him thoroughly. “Fuck, Geralt,” he breathes, “you don’t...don’t soften after? Don’t have to wait?”</p><p>Geralt lets out a huff of laughter, fucking into him pointedly. “There are a few advantages to bedding a witcher.”</p><p>Jaskier shoves him off, throwing off his shirt and flipping onto his knees, his head buried in his arms as he presents himself to Geralt. “Told you you’d ruin me,” comes a muffled rumble from the bedroll.</p><p>Geralt just grins and sinks back into that glorious heat.</p>
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